Cadaveric Aphrodite
by Cyberxotic
Summary: Even beside the mutilated bodies, Eros felt as little as he did when Trinnie would scream beneath him. He needed more - he needed death itself. Charon/MLW some Butch/MLW
1. Read First

Hey there. See that M rating?

Well, I'm going to try my very hardest to make this the most twisted, most fucked up I can. I'll watch every horror movie I can to provie you proper torture scenes, and I'll read as much slash as my brain can manage to make you tired from reading scenes.

So, from that, you can assume that there will, hopefully, be lots of sex, lots of torture, and lots and lots of dark things. Once again, I say hopefully. This is because of my tendency to get bored or have writer's block.


	2. I

"You know, Trinnie, Eros was the god of love." Trinnie grinned at me. "It's said that he married the most beautiful woman on the planet." I'd usually say, "Care to be my Psyche?" but I was interrupted as she slapped me across the face.

"You jerk! You're married?"

I stared at her – out in the Wastelands, it wasn't different from the Vault when it came to knowledge, whether school was accessible or not. I sighed and stared past her at Belle. "No, Trins – I'm asking if you want to fuck. I'm not married." She lit up and wrapped herself around my arm.

"Jeez, handsome – you made me think I'd lost my Cupid."

Nights were slow out here – they usually were around Rivet City. A whispered word, an unwarranted exchange of caps, or even a sideways glance and nod plead attention from security. Anymore, all I was able to do was fuck, eat, and, if possible, be overly bothersome. However, even with the moving, squirming curves and my whispered name poised above my lips, I found them _boring._

* * *

_Ahem... For anyone who read and/or for some reason enjoyed "Wasteland Valley" (aka the Shack) in its first chapter and expected me to actually do what I promised... I say this..._

_Sorry bout that._

_. Unfortunately, I've had writer's block for months - mostly caused by severe stress for awhile and the lost ability to open candy wrappers, which can take up to 5 minutes for each damn candy._

_Right now, I have lost all interest in writing for female characters. Butch is still a wonderful guy, but a new interest in writing has taken me elsewhere. After boughts of reading _new_ and _interesting_ fiction, I've decided to try a more psychotic character. It's gonna be tight, y'all. ._

_Most of this story, should it continue, will be based mainly on mods and music. Mods will be linked and music may be mentioned. I'll mention one right now._

_Orjatar by Teräsbetoni. Great song._


	3. Left

"You're not as strong as you think you are, you fuckin' mutt. Sneaking up on a man is some gay shit – you couldn't even cover your own dick in a real fight." And he just kept talking. The raider was a loudmouth now, but I hadn't even finished sharpening the blade.

He was a tad quieter as I advanced on him, a scalpel in hand. His limbs were tied around a light pole, leaving only his words to fight for him. I grabbed a fistful of hair and tried to decide what his face would soon become. Releasing his hair, I took hold of the left eyelid, slicing through the levator muscle and medial canthus. He made noises as I superglued the hanging eyelid to his temple, exposing his eyeball. The same was done to his right eye and he suddenly looked surprised as his eyes turned red and teared.

Next was his nose. I cut through his nostrils and straight up the septum until all I could see was red and black where it had been. The screaming hadn't ended, but I was determined to make this fuck hurt for injuring Dogmeat's paw. The aforementioned dog was sitting obediently across the street, watching for hostile movement.

The yielding flesh against the scalpel made me shiver in excitement. My neck twitched and I couldn't help but grin as the commissure of his lips split, allowing me to tear his cheek in half as the blade slid to his ear. There was far too much blood to hold securely onto the face anymore, so, I admit, mistakes were made. When all was done, the Raider was far gone, but his face was alive with expression. The upper half of his cheeks had been glued to hang just under his eyes and the lower half lay flat against his jaw, exposing what was left of his teeth.

I whistled to Dogmeat, who limped forward, a rather long cut on the pad of his paw hindering his movement. "Don't worry, boy – I've got enough Stimpaks to have you barking and humping things in no time." His tail wagged in response.

The woman of the group had been tied to another pole nearby, but she'd been curiously quiet the entire time, electing, instead, to stare with disbelief at her mutilated ally. With Dogmeat properly healed, I stood before her. "Well?"

She hesitated before her words spilled out, her voice cracking; "Please, man – I'll do anything you want, just _please don't fucking kill me._ I'll be your fuckin' slave if you want! Just don't end me like you did Cray!"

I squinted and put my face close to hers. "What was he to you? Friend? Sex-toy?"

"H-he and Jaws were the ones who used me, man." _Jaws_ had been the one force-fed dog shit and rocks. "Look – just let me go. I swear I won't never mess with you. I'll go get a real job."

"Pinky swear," I reminded her. She stared at me, and, to clarify, I grabbed her hand and wrapped her pinky around my own. "Come on."

"I swear, really – _Fuck!_" she screamed as I rived at her slender finger, which finally separated from the knuckle when my knife was involved. "What the fuck, man!"

"I'm keeping this pinky. If I ever see you again, it's going to be sewn to your eye – understand?" She nodded, holding her bloody hand tightly as I untied her. What's worse than dying at my hands is living with the sight of what I've done.

In the Wasteland, there are few things that can make a guy really happy – usually, that's booze, sex, and caps. Generally, people are not particularly happy when their cheek is rubbing concrete, the skin of their legs slowly sliced apart, and their hair pulled nearly to tearing out. Somehow, it was growing on me.

I'd been caught with my guard down. Sometimes, checking your bright Pipboy in dark tunnels isn't recommended. Thankfully, though, I'd had Dogmeat stay with Crazy Wolfgang while I went out exploring. The Raiders stood around me laughing and commenting as one of the larger men sat on my back, toying with my pain. He told me how soft my skin was as he scarred it. Before me, I saw a man whisper something to another before he stepped forward, undoing his lower armor to expose himself. He got on his knees and fisted my hair. "Go on, pretty boy." Finding no alternative, I reluctantly obliged him as he added lowly, "Bite it, and I'll fuckin' end ya." He moved my head and I forced myself to slick the dirty thing with my tongue. He made growling noises before letting go into my throat. I choked, but the tingling of the raider's knife between my toes and around my ankles was making my head tingle, my muscles twitching in excitement.

He dropped my head, returning his armor to its proper place. My cheekbone smashed into the floor and a headache threatened to overtake my brain. A boot connected with the back of my head and a belt slapped hard against my previously unharmed cheek. The cuts were progressively getting deeper. My mind was slowly getting cloudier. Another laugh and someone spit the taste of blood and drugs into my mouth.

Before the second raider could face-fuck me, a loud, scratchy scream echoed from within the tunnels of the underground station. Several followed the noise and the raiders readied themselves. The sound of bare feet against the concrete flooded towards the group and I was lifted from the ground. In my daze, I stumbled forward, toward the ghouls as they made their way up the broken escalators. I blinked slowly. In my armor, I always kept a certain mask that would keep the brainless fucks from eating me, and it was all I had in me to grab it and pull it half-assed over my face. The ferals flew past me and towards the obvious targets – horny, virtually unprotected smoothskins.

I turned slowly to the scene – several raiders lay next to their own throats and some ghouls were missing limbs. I reached to my hip for Lace. I stared, half-lidded at the single remaining ghoul. Its eyes were black, its skin pulled tightly to its thin skeleton. Lace was raised to eye-level. The ghoul ran towards me. One shot, I tell myself. Just one.

Dragging myself through the metro was nothing. To the gate. To the sun. A hoarse voice asked for my name. Fingers. There's the headache.

When the sun dies, there'll be screams – lovers will cry as fires consume their knowledge, and the raiders and perverts will lose their flesh to the gods. I could hear the flesh tearing – I could feel the heat of the sun and hear the screams of loss. The heat was flooding over me. I could vaguely remember my dreams – Vaults, bullies, and realization. Above me, there were eyes – cloudy, blue, and relatively innocent. "Hey, kid – you gotta get out of here soon. I need these beds."

I shivered as the heat retreated with the disconnection of the lamp above me. The man talking was a ghoul – he wasn't angry, but the bonesaw he held made me think otherwise. "What the fuck," I murmured. I felt for my chest, finding only skin. The thought of being naked flitted through my thoughts, but I was focused on the screaming, glowing feral ghouls on the other side of the wall.

"You're in the Chop Shop, smoothskin."

"But I like my limbs…" My head fell to one side as I spoke, and I was suddenly staring at the wall.

"Damn, you got pretty fucked up, didn't you? What's your name, smoothskin?"

"I'm… Eros…" I groaned, moving to sit up.

* * *

_Damn, was this as short to you as it seems to me? It's only around 1/5 longer than 1k words, and that's a damn shame. However, I had to post this in order to show myself that I can actually write things. It may not be a wonderfully exciting story just yet, but, hopefully, it will grow up into a strong, happily married... one..._

_Okeedokee, that was my first ever violence-sex-my-name-is chapter. I've re-read and revised it several times, but I have the lingering feeling that I overuse the word "as" or "before," in an attempt to avoid overusing the word "and." Oh well. This was a super-cereal style, but, I'm hoping that when Eros is more calm and comfortable, his words will be a little more fluid and a little less philosophic. He's just angry is all._

_Please, for the love of Vegeta, review. _

_...pweez._

_Main music during this was Planet Hell, Bless the Child, and Living Dead Girl. Wheeee._


	4. To

Eros was nearly incoherent the second time he woke. The constant beatings his head had taken from the raiders and the sleeplessness he'd experienced between Megaton and… wherever he was… had left him, temporarily, an idiot. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he cradled his head in his hands, staring into the floor. "Hey, hon – d'you need some more Med-x?" The nurse was sweet, but Eros's mind saw her as just another _woman_. He shook his head and stood to leave the small hospital.

"Hi, where's beer?" he asked awkwardly.

"If you go to the second level, there's a bar and a restaurant – I think you should lay off anything too strong. Try Carol's," her hoarse voice responded. "Don't you go anywhere near the 9th Circle." He grinned widely, and pushed through the doors. He was intercepted by a blue-ish ghoul that made Eros giggle.

"Well, if it isn't our latest smoothskin visitor. You still a little slow in the head, kid?" Eros snorted in response. "Got it. Don't go near the pipes." He nodded and brushed by the ghoul moving towards the stairs. At the top, he realized the sign on the other side of the level read _Carol's_, and he was probably near the bar Graves had warned him about. He stood, silent, until he decided that whatever was in the bar was nothing he couldn't handle, and if _Carol_ was going to be so far away, he simply wouldn't go there.

Charon was rather uncomfortable when the smoothskin stumbled his way through the door. He was holding his head as he took a seat at the bar, which gave Charon the impression that he didn't _need_ any _more_ booze. "Well now, lookee here. We got a smoothskin that I ain't ever seen before. I'm Ahzrukhal, and this is the Ninth Circle."

"The Ninth Circle… of poop," Eros announced. "'Cause it's like… poop in here." He blew a rasberry and Ahzrukhal shook his head, the smirk everpresent.

"My dear boy, I would think you've been to Carol's the way you're swaying."

Eros shook his head angrily; "That bitch is way the fuck over there."

"Ah, I see." Eros stared at the radio long enough to let the ghoul leave. He moved his hand to cover over the power button, waiting to see if Ahzrukhal would notice.

"_Arooo! Hey kiddies, this is Th-" _He pulled his hand back quickly just as Ahzrukhal turned to see why Three Dog had stopped talking.

"Stop touching that radio. If I wanted it off, I'd turn it off." Eros pressed the button again quickly.

"…_always hurt the one you love – the one you shouldn't hurt at all. You always take the sweetest rose and cursh it till the petals fall."_ Eros grimaced at the sullen song, glaring at the back of Ahzrukhal's head.

"Now, do you want anything or are you going to-"

"…_the kindest hearts with a hasty-_"The song stopped again and Eros froze, his finger on the button.

"Goddammit, kid. Stop touching the fuckin' radio or I'll have Charon throw you out. Dumb bastard."

"I want some scotch. Can I have some scotch?"

"Do you have caps?" Ahzrukhal replied shortly, irritated.

"I have… No. I think… Nurse Graves…" Eros was losing his breath and he clutched his head tighter. "Agh, my… brain." Something was muttered about a surprise and Eros having a brain, but he was too busy trying to push his face into the counter to care. "Fuck…" Charon raised a nonexistent eyebrow as he watched. Usually, they (the drunks) would be complaining about their brains having melted, not hurting. He sighed as the smoothskin went limp and fell hard onto the floor, slamming his chin on the way down.

Ahzrukhal's dramatic sigh followed his; "Damned smoothskins can't even handle ordering the shit." He pointed at Charon, the kid, then the door. "Take him to that doctor's before he turns feral." He turned to a female ghoul nearby. "Ghoul joke – you wouldn't get it."

"_Hey Amata, what's the word?" Eros was leaning against the cafeteria's counter, waiting for Amata, his latest girlfriend._

"_Hey, Air… Look, we have to talk." Eros's eyes narrowed as she spoke. "I'm not sure we should be going out."_

_His demeanor was nearly demonic as he stared the girl down, but it quickly fell away into an angel's. "Aw, Ams, why? Did I do something wrong?"_

"_No, no – it's not anything you did. My father's just been bothering me a lot about seeing you."_

_A carefully practiced smirk crawled over his lips and he shifted to cross his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I got that. It's all good, Ams. But hey, have you been talking to Susie lately?_

"_Just like that, Air? Come on – I know you're not acting right. Look, I know there's something going on with you, and it's why I can't see you anymore. You're always acting so… I don't know! You seem to, like, mirror people or something! What're you trying to do?" Amata was getting excited – Eros was everyone was watching a movie in the classroom._

_Eros advanced on her, watching his _friend_ carefully. "You never know what's happening until it's started, Amata." He shook his head. "There's nothing you can do – once those pretty little words were said, you sealed your own damn fate." He scoffed. "I'll just be going now, Ams." _

_Amata didn't move until the sound of the door sliding shut reminded her of what she'd done._

There was a ringing in my ears when I woke up yet again. I couldn't even remember why I'd fallen back asleep, but, this time, there was a tall, angry ghoul standing with his back to me. I groaned as I turned over, but he didn't flinch. "Hey… hey, big guy. How'd I get back in here?" He wouldn't respond. I lay silent until Doc Barrows finally entered, at which point I attempted to get out of bed, only to be forced back down by the tall ghoul. "What the fuck is with this guy, Doc? He won't talk…" I poked his arm to emphasize my point.

"This is Charon. I've asked Ahzrukhal to have him watch over you to make sure you don't do anything stupid again."

"Again?" No one responded and I huffed. "God, well, as fun as this is, lying here and everything, I'm crazy hungry. Got something for little ol' Airy, Doc?"

'Charon' wouldn't look at me, but Doc at least chuckled a bit before he handed me some angry-looking meat, presumably one of the parents of 'Charon' by how red and evil it looked. "So, kid," Doc started, sitting on a stool nearby, "you want to tell me why you've been walking around like a brainless dog the past few days?"

As I bit into the devil meat, I shook my head. "I got ambushed by some raiders. I was trying to find the Museum of History on my Pip boy," I waved my arm around to show him, "and they saw the light. I'm kind of awesome like that."

"Do you remember what they did to you that injured you?"

"They were all over my damn legs with some knives and," I ripped angrily at the meat again, "they did stuff to my head – kicked it, hit it… you know."

"Well, that explains the drooling," Doc mumbled. "I've been doping you up with Med-x and Stimpaks for awhile, so you should be fine now."

"Awesome. So, I can go? Do you know where the Museum of History is?"

"You're in it, kid." I stopped chewing and sighed. "This is the inhabited section, Underworld."

I shook my head. "Crazy, man. Well, do you know some chick called Carol?"

"Whaddya need with her?"

"I've got a letter for her from a guy named Gob." Doc laughed softly and said something about Gob before giving me directions to Carol. I slapped a hand onto Charon's shoulder as best I could. "Well, thanks for keeping me from the clutches of death, man." Not even a glance.

Carol was easy as hell – a smile, a nice word, and the promise that Gob was doing damn well. She was bouncy and grinning before she'd even opened Gob's letter, and I could feel a glare from another ghoul girl who was fervently waiting tables.

Gob was one of the first people I'd met fresh out of the vault. He'd kept his eyes down and called me 'sir.'

"_Can I get you something, sir? Anything?"_

"_Um, what've you got?" _He got a little more comfortable in his stance.

"_Anything you want, sir. Beer, Vodka, Scotch…"_

"_Can I get some Stimpaks, please?" _

"'_Please'? You ain't from around here, are you? You ain't gonna hit me or something? Yell at me, maybe? Not even berate me a little?"_

I'd laughed, which made him get scared again. "_Of course not, man. You been sleepin' with my girl or something? I haven't got anything against you. Why?"_

"_Come on, smoothskin. Look at me. Everyone here gives me shit for looking like a corpse."_

"_I don't know – I kind of like how you look. I find the human anatomy beautiful – and the fact that I can see your muscles is like porn for me." _I'll admit, I overdid the situation a bit, but it was my style back then.

* * *

Whee! Chapter… 2.5? 3? I don't know. Anyway, it's finished! And it's slightly longer than the last one! Happy face!

Last night, I did a synopsis on Eros, and I was able to more clearly understand him. Therefore, his character will be a lot more complex as this goes on. The little thing about Amata is like a mini-story that can clarify his character and may give evidence as to his reasoning for actions, like torturing raiders. Yay!

Oh, and, something I've decided to do:

Eros Fun Facts!

Aw, I need a unicorn.

Anywhos, Eros Fun Fact Numero Uno: Eros is a player, but doesn't enjoy the company of women as much as he'd like to.


	5. See

"Well, see, Charon – the use of the words "he" and "she" indicate that who or whatever you're talking about has a gender. Gender means that reproduction is a probability, and thus, a brain is generally present. When a brain is present, then a soul – or something like it – is, and this is why I get really weird about people using "he" or "she" to talk about someone I've just killed. Get it?"

Of course Charon fucking got it. The kid had been talking to him nonstop for nearly half an hour about whatever the hell came to his mind. He'd starting with his deep-rooted hatred for anything carrying a knife and it somehow turned into a one-sided existential debate.

"Look, Charon – I've got this idea about DNA. If we could somehow directly manipulate the proteins that make up a DNA strand, we could ultimately put there was was originally meant – like fixing a mutation – we could cure so much! I mean, there's cancer, mental illnesses, and other… things." Eros finished awkwardly, staring intently at his beer as he thought about what he'd said. "I mean, it's probably a good thing that the stuff needed doesn't exist, because the government and all 'authorative figures' would probably take control of it all and make everyone look and think and act the same. It'd be a goddamned Cyberpunk age, Charon."

Business was rather slow that day, but Ahzrukhal thanked Eden that that damn talkative kid was buying beer and scotch every 20 minutes or so. He was only letting Charon be bothered so ungodfully because there was nothing that called for Ahzrukhal's attention – such as stealing, fights, et cetra. Otherwise, he'd have had the kid thrown to the ferals and made Charon smack a few drunks around. He sighed, wishing he could see that fuckin' kid get ripped apart – probably by the mouth first.

"I guess we should be thankful that we at least don't live in a full-fledged Cyberpunk world. You know what Cyberpunk is, right? They had it as a genre of books and things just before the war. It was kind of like a social premonition, eh?

"Well, anyway, the only real difference between our current society and what was generally put out in books of that genre is the technology. I mean, I love to dabble in some computer tech every now and then, but there's very few interesting things that computer do anymore. Back before the war, I hear that they were working on synthetic people. You know how awesome it'd be to be an android? I only say that because of my whole brain theory. I mean, androids are said to have developed feelings, emotions, and stuff like that, so it's only plausible that they, despite being machines – hey, Ahzrukhal! Can I have some more scotch? – have souls, right?

"Then the question of whether we can really call them computers or not arises. A computer's just something that computes, right? But we've changed it to mean a specific device that can output information that previously had been input. They're really no better than a piece of paper with writing on it, so how can we call it a computer? It computes nothing."

As much as Charon would have rather not admitted it, the kid at least had some brains. He wasn't just rambling on about how his toe always hurts or how his psychotic rages were brought on by his dad's neglection. God, the things drunken ghouls brought up.

There was a moment during which Charon realized that there were no words. He could hardly resist looking at the boy to see if he'd kicked the bucket. He was, unfortunately, disappointed as the smoothskin continued; however, the words, now, were cautious and slow, as if trying to tear a response from the ghoul.

"You ever think about the senses Charon? I think about sight and touch a lot. See, I'm looking at you right now, and when I look at you, I have to process you into my brain and the information never really goes away. It's like leaving a scar on someone, but it's certainly not unsightly." The kid's demeanor had changed dramatically. He was no longer talking about whatever he felt like – and his words didn't come falling out in a nearly disorganized manner. "And then there's touch. Imagine all the beauty of it – a single finger containing so many nerves, sending information to the brain about the texture, the tempurature… the pure _everything_ about whatever it touches. Have you ever been touched, Charon? Have you kissed anyone lately?

"Imagine that – kissing. It's so damned close to the brain; it's got to be pretty damn amazing, eh? Especially since the lips are so beautifully fragile and virtually unprotected. It's like sex." He was silent again until he decided to slowly exit the bar, without a glance back at either Charon or any ghoul that had stopped killing themselves to listen to the death in his voice.

Eros was in that mood again. He had to hurt something – the beauty of everything was too much in his mind. He needed to _see_ it happen.

The best kind of victim was always Talon Company Mercs. They always talked a good game until you held a knife near their face.. So it was only predictable that Eros had taken one – just one. Besides, he needed a friend when he was in this mood, and only a scared man could provide the company he so craved.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about sex. Not the act of me having sex, nor other people. It's usually just stuff like how people change and react to certain catalysts provided by a lover's attention. Do you know what I mean?" Eros was toying with a combat knife while pacing before an armorless merc who stared with wide eyes at him.

"It's like this book I read once. There was this man – badass as hell with no damned care in the world, but, then, this chick came along and something just… _changes_. Do you think the same thing could've happened if he'd liked men and a certain _guy_ had turned up? Then the wonder of how he acts in combat comes to mind. Does she ever appear in his mind while he's slitting some bastard's throat? Does he ever think about her while he's sneaking around trying to find a commander to kill off? It's all so glorious, don't you think?"

"W-what the fuck, man? Why're holding me fuckin' prisoner?"

Eros paused, staring straight at the squirming merc. "I blame my childhood for this." The merc's movements were suddenly stopped and Eros took to work examining the lips, eyes, and hands of the body, reveling in the pure nature of the makeup.

* * *

Phew, that was an… odd chapter. O.o

It's mostly more character building. Yay for pissing off Charon! :D

Anywhos, this is a slight insight into Eros and his odd mood swings that cannot be cured by chocolate. Oh, the inhumanity. .


	6. The

"_You know, Gob – you don't have to live in a place like this." Gob, my ghoulish bestie, was scrubbing harshly at a mug that was nearly pristine; "I could save you, too. You and Nova. It Wouldn't be anything to me."_

"_What're you talking about, kid?" Gob scoffed, shaking his head. _

"_No, really. Moriarty isn't a god and we all know that. I, however, am a god, and I can kill him super easily!"_

"_It's no good to be talking like that, Eros. You'll get people angry and I don't like to clean up blood."_

_I smiled; "But I sure Do…"_

That's the only reason I'm here, honestly. It could be the mole rat sniffing the cement down in the distance or the way Burke stood uncomfortably close to me as I opened the metal case. Maybe it was the fact that I remember the kid, Harden, or the girl - whatever her name was – that made me chew the inside of my cheeks. However, they had no reason to live anymore. There were only a few shots fired before Jericho was laughing next to me, helping me gun down all the women who'd rejected him, the men who'd doubted him, and the rest who were just in the wrong place at the wrong damned time. I did make a special point, though, to avoid hitting the Brahmin at all costs, as I wanted desperately to lead him far from Megaton before I blew it up.

Nova and Gob were in Rivet City now, living relatively happily for a prostitute and a ghoul. I'd also left Jericho with them, just in case anyone wanted to fuck with the ghoul or underpay my favorite call girl.

Here it is.

One pull. Three clicks. One explosion. Three men.

"magnificent, my boy," Burke murmured just as the shellshock wore off. "And I suspect you'll be wanting your pay now."

My fingers tapped the table before me. Index, Middle, middle, middle, ring, pinky pinky pinky. Stop. Restart backwards.

My voice had fallen slightly and I felt a new sort of vibration in my throat as I spoke; "Wherever beauty shall show itself, may the ugly flow forth." I eyed Burke closely as he handed me the bag of caps and key, shifting awkwardly beside me.

"Indeed. Well, welcome, Eros."

"Hello, Charon!" Charon ground his molars and tilted his head. The kid had been gone for nearly a month, and he was hoping that it was the last he'd seen of the damned smoothskin. "I've made three thousand caps since we last saw each other. I presume you know what that means?" Charon noticed as the kid started tapping lightly on the table and wondered if he was honestly trying to give Charon a damn stroke.

"talk to Ahzrukhal, Smoothskin."

"But Ahzrukhal… he doesn't understand our _love_! We have a special bond, Charon!" Eros laughed and Charon sighed. "How about some drinks, eh?"

"For the love of shit, talk to Ahzrukhal you-"

"Fine, fine, but when I come back and you have to drink with me, I'm going to mock you endlessly. Please prepare until then." Across the room, Ahzrukhal was watching a fly that was slowly making its way towards a sleeping customer. Charon saw Eros talking, but, until the word "caps" was spoken, rather loudly, Ahzrukhal remained hunched over the bar. He saw the bartender grin darkly before the kid was walking back towards the bouncer.

"Charon, what do you see in yourself? I've always wondered, since I first met you, whether or not you see yourself as you, a conscious being with emotions, dreams, hopes… or if you truly believe that you are the machine you have been taught to be. Are you a machine, Charon? _A persecutor, I am sure, thou art. If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner_." The kid smiled a lot, even when he said weird things like that. "I've got your contract with me Charon, and I'd be happy to call you my executioner, should it please you."

* * *

Phew, so… Sorry about the length! 8D

It's so wittle. Aw.

It's actually odd that this was even written, seeing as how I'm not currently even playing Fallout 3. :D

In truth, I've been working on a completely different story in a different place… . Supaheroessssssssss yay.

Well…

I was rather excited to quote some Shakespear, especially from the same scene as Becker quotes in… Screamers… *cough* uh.

And I've been watching lots of La Femme Nikita (I LOOOOVE ROY DUPUIIIIIIIS [he's 50 umgz])

And that is all the fangirling you'll be hearing now. Goodbye.


	7. Man

"You! Show me some I.D.!" _Absolutely beautiful. _I have to hold back a shudder as the man yells at me from down the hall.

I couldn't have been more surprised by the reality of his speech. The _tongue, teeth, __**throat, **_the_**mucosae **_stretched tight across the larynx – this was his speech. The movement of his tongue against his mouth to make the proper noises was captivating, to say the least. Sure, his face – the combination of his muscular build and simple genetic outcome – wasn't much to look at, but, when we _have no skin_, no _face_,we are all beautiful.

The bullet from Charon's gun to the man's heart was no lesser in magnificence. The mistress of his bodily shell, blood, rushed forth towards his wound, trying her best to create a wall between her and the body's dark promiscuous fun, and the dirty, unforgiving world as it clawed its way in. Blood, in her haste, was draining from all minor places – fingers, feet, face – towards the newly-formed window. Alas, she was too weak from her earlier endeavors to protect her man, and she flowed, flooding, defeated and tired, onto his clothing and the metal floor around him.

I smiled; "Charon, you do so well for me." I turned to attempt an extraction of a response, but Charon was already moving away from me, towards the stairwell the man had been blocking. I followed sullenly, feeling sympathetic for the blood of the man, wondering if something similar to her experience would happen to myself. I cocked my head and moved slower, allowing Charon all the space he needed to clear out the room, wondering: _If Charon were to ever be hurt or exposed like that man, would I be able to close his wounds and help him recover, or would I fall onto the floor and surrender? _Oh, _son of Love and War, I cannot choose._

I was obviously high off something – finding myself overly poetic and overwhelmed by the amount of fighting around me. _Curious – I haven't even __**seen**__ psycho since Rivet City._ I ran my hand down my face, staring blankly at Charon. "Are you injured?"

"No, my underworldly ferryman." He growled, frustrated by my constant allusions – sometimes I'd refer to him as my moon, my ferryman, or, occasionally, I'd ask if we were any nearer to leaving Acheron. They were my own lame jokes, and I smiled proudly whenever I'd make them, though any crowd would easily see otherwise. "Why?"

"You aren't fighting."

"You're so quick with your words, Charon. You should try speaking in _long, poetic_ sentences with structure so intricate; my brain literally melts from trying to follow your thoughts." He stared at me and I huffed. "Or not." I decided to drop my dreamy-voice for the depression of defeat. "I'm not fighting because I'm tired of this stupid place. I don't like the metal; I don't like the big, angry ugly-fucks; and I don't like the fact that I don't remember why we've gotten ourselves in here." I glared at the pipes running down the walls, and kicked them. "Stupid."

"We came down here by your request, _sir_."

"My name is Eros. _Eer_, like your ear-" I tugged my ear to emphasize- "and _oss_ like… Like OSS!" Charon grimaced and I ground my wisdom teeth lightly in irritation. It'd been a long few hours surrounded by the unerring metallic base and I'd willingly given up all hope of finding anything of use in the little shithole.

"_**Eros**_," my name dripped heavily in a bloody venom as it scraped from his lips, "you made it clear that you wanted to come down here, despite all logic of the situation. I must follow your orders, whether I agree with them or not." (Not) Surprisingly, he was entirely correct to question my usually (im)perfect judgment on whether or not we should enter an underground base surrounded by Enclave angries, but I feel as if I digress.

Sleeping in the quarters of the executed commander was rather… unrewarding. Unsatisfying. I lay awake in the bed as Charon slept either peacefully or not at all in the nearby security room. I rose lightly and moved to stand beside Charon's cot; "Charon. I can't sleep."

"You're not tired." I felt in his words an accusation and fell silent, chewing lightly on my cheeks as I sat on a desk.

"I'm sorry, Charon. I wasn't into… everything today. I haven't been feeling well."

Charon sat up, somewhat more alert. "Are you ill? I can retrieve medical supplies, if-"

"No, Charon. It's not a medical sickness. It's a mental one, I think. I feel… guilty. And sad."

* * *

Ah jeez. I'm not supposed to be writing. I've just gotten over Carpal Tunnel and it's about an hour past the time I was supposed to have gone to bed. That's… that's my excuse for its short…ness… . Well, anyway, here's a new chapter! I've gotten more attached to Eros because I've recently read Medea and some of Dante's Inferno. That also explains the sudden poetic nature of my writing, I guess. Yay.

Hopefully, the poetic/droning style this chapter is in isn't boring or tiresome. o.o Most won't be in it. In fact, it's mostly for Eros's mood and my sleeplessness. 3 :D

Anyywhooos, I haven't played Fallout 3 in weeks – I know, shocker – but I can't help thinking about Eros and Charon a lot, despite the fact that I've started a different story about Watchmen on a different user. .

Hmm.

Also, thank you so BLEEDING MUCH, all who've reviewed! ((Secretly, I fangirl over the fact that _RustyPaperclip_ has _read_ my shit because YOU ARE A HERO OF MINE, RUSTY 8D Knox is one of my favorite OCs evaaaa)) And the reviews have given me so mushshhhs of da happiness, that I'm actually writing. 3 *sniff*

(GlassesForMyLove, Daylight Luxe, RustyPaperclip, kyonismaiwaifu, xToxicspiritx, and Megaaaan (Ryunimate), THANK YOU3)

Hope you've enjoyed!


	8. On

"There's something that's been bothering me a lot, Charon." He grunted from where he sat on the cot, eyes set on the floor. "I have no idea what comes after life. There's a spark of joy and evil in every human and the fact that that can be stripped completely from a person is…" My shoulder blades – _scapula_ – twitched and I pulled anxiously at my index finger. "What if there's just _nothing_? There's no reason for there to be a god. There's… We're born with everything we need; we evolved from other animals – not from a creator; we started from shit and built our way up to what surrounds us today." My words were too fast and fell as swiftly from my lips as though they were water choked from my lungs. "There can't be anything. But there… _must_ be… There _has_ to be or – or I just know that I'm trapped. I'm fucking claustrophobic in my own life and there's a door to eternity but I can't open it because… because it's fucking… _fake_. I don't know what – I lay awake at night and have panic attacks – I can't stop breathing too quickly and I think of those people – all those fucking _people_ Charon-" I was suddenly interrupted by Charon's hard hands on my shoulders.

"You're going into another panic attack, si- _Eros_." He removed his hands and stood straight, glaring down at me.

"There's… Fuck," I muttered. "I can feel my heart… I just… I need something to make me feel secure. There's… _nothing_ in my life that's promised to stay with me and actually followed through." I let my head fall back as Charon sat again on the cot. "I'm not comfortable in life, Charon. I can't look back and think 'I've had a good run.' I'm young, yeah, but there's so much I've done, yet so much good I haven't even considered."

The room was silent for a moment, metal creaking under its earthly weight; somewhere off in the hallways I could nearly hear the bodies rotting – decomposition rubbing its filthy hands in preperation. "Why good things?" Charon's voice was rough; his words were less a question than a musing.

I looked away, my lips parting slowly. _Why good things?_ Why do I have to risk my skin to make sure the world smiles? Is the sun my brother? Am I the Earth's keeper? Do I gain more from a laugh than a scream? Must I constantly control the amounts of dopamine and adrenaline within a man? I smiled. "For what purpose must I serve clouds and slave to your heart's mirth*?" I gave a half-hearted laugh. "You know, Charon, I wasn't born a freak. I was always trying to make my dad proud when I was a kid… I'd go to his office every day after school and work on a project I called, "Cleansing." I was working with the genetic material of specific bacteria – the kind used in water purifiers. I was trying to force it to divide faster than ever; have a stronger, long-lasting form; and make it immune to the diseases that usually accompany that disgusting water out there… And I did it." I shifted, glancing at Charon to find him hunched over – but listening. "But no one… cared. The Overseer didn't care for it – he already had a purifier; Dad just fucking smiled and told me I did a good job… But Jonas… he told me I was a genius – that I'd save the damn world. He's the reason I didn't give up then. But he's dead, so…" I sighed; "No reason to continue to do good. Goodness and purity are for the ignorant… the enlightened…"

* * *

* The line said by Eros is a line from a poem I wrote for English called, Eros. If someone wants, I can post it for further explanation of his meaning.

Okay, yeah this is super short. Like, STUPID short. But I really wanted to post something and I really wanted to update you guys! :D My BFFFFFF EVA and I might make a little manga thingy featuring a personal character each from both myself and her; as in, Eros will be in it will all his torturous and omnomnomful glory. :D If it's possible, I'll try to get parts on the interwebz, but, otherwise, YOU SHALL NEVER SEE IT. 3

Also… someone should… review this… I'm getting UNSURE of this because of the lack of response… Yeah, I like to feel useful :D


	9. A

It was one of those nights during which Charon could truly dream rather than lay motionless in wait for attack. After Eros's confession of guilt, he'd promised to stand guard and left Charon to sleep. Though he didn't trust the schizo little fuck's fingers on a trigger any more than he trusted himself not to strangle said fuck every time his mouth opened.

_Charon, why do you stare so? _Eros laughed. He kneeled beside a body – one Charon knew he'd left lifeless. _Thine eyes betray thine mind, my ferryman._ He jerkily rose his arm, slamming his hand into the wall beside him. His fingers curled and twitched against the metal, leaving the corpse's blood as their signature. _I have ended no life… Where…_ Eros slammed himself against the wall, still kneeling, his cheek pressed hard against it. _Where does the arrow penetrate? Have you felt it, Charon? I've thrust my power through your spine – it's near your heart now… You'll be mine… Charon… _Eros kissed the blood, dragging his lips up, letting the dead life fall victim to his tongue. _Charon… come to me…_

_

* * *

_

I jingled pre-war coins in my hand – they had been scavenged mainly from vacant vaults – ghostly imprints of false hopes within our desolation. I felt chills course through my nerves as I thought of the vaults – their doors, through which once passed husbands and wives, children and elders… Their beds – once home to dreams of their days and hopes and tears and smiles… Occasionally I would find pictures – or worse, cameras. The pictures were the humans' wishes to remember happy times – times they cannot experience any longer…

The bombs fell like birds shot from the skies. Their impact shot through man's mind as only heartbreak ever could. A pang of surprise followed by shellshock which broke their knees and crushed their skulls was the last reminder of what early man had wanted - unity.

The coins fell silent as I placed one into a dead man's mouth. "Charon may not escort you; however, I cannot wish you everlasting purgatory within the River." I turned to the stains of blood – a fluid moving at a definite rate pushed forward by a central point – it had spread itself across the walls. Blood is heavenly, I think. As it hides within a body, it fancies itself blue – the color of our sky and our water when pure – but as it hits our oxygen, it falls into red, the ribbon of death and the lace of enemies.

"My brothers, I find that you are with sin – its slams through your blood and reaps it of its love. You may feel your skin torn by the claw of Hades… or you may stand within the Field, never to step forward… Whatever your fate may hold for you, I must expel all feelings of guilt I may have. It is not my fault that you all have failed at the Gods' expectations; you have thrust forward your choices and they have proven futile and ignorant, as all humans are, ultimately. I am Eros – Love and War when held by hands. I need neither spouse nor enemy for I am my own. There is no love in Heaven; there is only… light…" I dropped a match lit at some point onto a body and hesitated only for a moment before running to awaken Charon.

"Kharon, we have to leave immediately… Charon?" I was taken aback by his gaze – one of emotions; one of the soul's logic. "We need to go…"

"Why?" There was no need in my mind to explain to him my work – only to repeat the necessity to leave. He was behind me as we ran, his breath never quickening; his feet never stomping. He was the bacteria I'd created back Home – he was the evolution of a greater Being…

* * *

Raiders could not organize. They were devolved men seeking flesh for life and pleasure. Scavengers cared for nothing but their materials and their dogs. Business men were organized and cared for _all _materials. "Would you release my friend?" I had no words – they had fallen into my stomach with my blood. "I… fail to see the use of him." A man stood behind me to hold fast on my arms. When I spoke, he pulled them in opposite directions than intended by a Creator. Another man, a man named Yaka, didn't care for my words. He paced before me and Charon as we faced each other across a room. He was on his knees while I was held up by a single man.

"You are the Vault child, yes? Come from the underground to shine your light on our land?" He held his arms high as if announcing his godliness. A heavy accent threaded through his words.

"I am from the vault, but I have no light to shine."

Yaka stopped to stand before me, his face still as my lips. "Bjort, löytää ketjut ja tappaa hänet…" I was released momentarily, allowed to cradle my wrists. "You shall tell me of the Vault's codes… its origination… and its architecture."

"Do you intend on building a new one…?" Yaka ignored me and stepped towards Charon.

"This… thing… shall provide my leverage." The man called Bjort was behind me again and was slipping my hands into zip ties, presumably relatively weakened over the centuries. Through the tight ties were forced thick chains, cutting the circulation off to my fingers. I heard the chain moving and suddenly my arms were jerked up, nearly above my head. My tendons screeched and my muscles felt torn. I shuddered. "So… have you any words?"

"I have none." Yaka produced a long combat blade from his pocket, slicing it through the air and Charon's cheek. I narrowed my eyes and cocked my head. "The vaults were founded by an asinine organization called Vault Tec; the code has been changed-"

My nerves were cut as Bjort carved into my straining _biceps brachii – _the freezing cold my fingers felt was no longer an issue. "When I last checked, it was the word 'future.' He's got this thing with… it..." I attempted to shift as cold air ran its fingers over trails of my blood. "I can't simply explain the structure, I-" Yaka grabbed Charon's hair and shoved his head backward, cutting deep into his brow. "I'll tell you… if Charon is released." Without a moment of thought, Charon was pushed out the small room's door. They didn't care about _it_ – my…

I was wretched up again.

Again.

My feet touched Bjort's knees.

I laughed through my blood as I choked.

* * *

Sorry for any awkward…ness… caused by or living within this chapter . I'm trying to get my bearings in this story since I've finally found the shadow of a plot (which means that this story… has not yet reached its end... :D

What a twist! You shall say this… you shall.

Sorry about the length. Yet again. I know - I'm disappointing D: However, this was written just tonight and I get to be (a girly) Jason in a 5-minute rendition of Medea tomorrow morning... YAY :D So I can't... stay up. Or else Jason will be very bleehhhhh

Then…

Anyway.

The thingy was taken vaguely from YouTube: /watch?v=jwqLhHsG93A&feature=related and /watch?v=28LjeBtj-48&feature=related (the second one is just TURRIBLE.)

Yo yo.

Now… TIME FOR SOME ICE CREAM


	10. Mountain

It hadn't been long since the kid died.

Nah, Charon didn't like to think about crap like that. It clutched his mind like a Deathclaw and held on as persistently as the damned... As Charon's bottle rose ever closer to his lips, he thought, _Hell's probably got a special place for that happy bastard._

The kid _had_ given his life to let Charon go free - of course, the only way he knew to take advantage of such a thing was to get drunk at the place he'd spent years guarding.

By the third bottle, Charon didn't really give a crap that the doors of Underworld were thrown open in such a way as to cause several patrons to gasp audibly. Rather cliché, Charon mused, but so was his situation. He didn't want to follow the crowd out of the Ninth Circle to find out what was screeching louder than a hormonal woman. He didn't find any need whatsoever to figure out the origin of screamed words, "**My fucking face... my fucking **_**face**_**!**" He didn't want to and he didn't need to.

Despite what Charon wanted, once again, the world did as it wished. Sometime later, through the doors of an otherwise empty Ninth Circle burst Barrows with all his... Charon squinted... skin... and such_..._ "Charon, Eros needs-" _No, no, no - silly doctor. Eros died - his arms were severed and his throat was slit. I saw most of it with my own eyes before he was released from those- _"Charon... Dammit, you're drunk. You're fuckin' useless like this."

There was no subsidence to the burning. Acid had poured onto my face and ate at my flesh, clawing its way deep into my cheek, my temple, my eye. Barrows had strapped my hands to the gurney to prevent me from wiping my dirty hands all over the scarring tissue. Soon, I worried, my visage would become nothing more than a partially-paralyzed burlesque.

Nowhere in my mind did the explanation to the pain lay. I had thought for hours, attempting to remember what had happened between dying at the hands of those savage apes and waking up metres from Willow's feet, screaming in agony from the flaming pain that surged through half of my face.

I growled and thrashed again; "**Where the fuck is **_**Charon**_**? Don't leave me alone! I'll be...**" But I didn't know what would become of me. A depressing emptiness held fast where my heart slept; I hadn't felt such a void in years - since Dad told me the truth about Mom or since Butch decided he was no longer my 'friend.' It was a sort of love - something had been ripped from my chest so harshly that it had left deep scars that poked innocently at my conscience. However, without Charon nearby to quell my paranoid monophobia, my mind saw these scars as an attack by the world and merely continued to instigate my thrashing and ranting.

"**Char-**"

"Eros, please - relax. You're going to tip over that gurney and hurt yourself." Barrows gave me a soft smile that hurt my spine. "Charon is upstairs. He'll be coming down later - he's... a bit... indisposed at the moment."

"_Hey... fuck. Bess! Mike?" A small movement. "Bess- where the fu-" _

"_Roy!" A shrill, girlish laugh echoed through the tunnels and Roy felt his hip for his knife. "Roy-roy where _are_ you? We have _company_!" _

"_Fuck... who...?" That wasn't Bessie's voice - nor was it Mike's. Where the hell were all the ferals? _

_The voice fell to a low, angered male's; "I didn't need your cute little mask, Roy. I made my own. Two, even." _Goddamned smoothskins,_ Roy thought shakily. "I really like the feel of ghoul leather on my skin... Roy." _

_The view was rather grotesque as the smoothskin stepped into the dim light. Red, broken flesh clung desperately to the human's face; the lips stretched into a shattered grin that clawed at Roy's eyes. He refrained from remembering that he'd seen that face speak - now it was the putty of a molded mask. _

"_Roy, baby, don't you want to greet your girlfriend?" The smoothskin radiated innocence from his smile as he held his arms open to Roy, who had finally managed to find his damn knife. "I found out your plans, you... Well, I just wanted to tell you - no one commands my actions, Roy. You think you can use me as a... a pawn? A fucking **piece**?" The human had grabbed the chrome of the empty ticket booth and began to bend it. "I'll fucking **rip** you."_

_Lace at my hip, I continued to grin at the fucking shit that stared back. He - Roy Phillips - had his knife at ready as I advanced. I was in no mood for poetry, though the time was right. His skin - gasping like the desert floor, cracking and screaming; it was begging to be torn from his muscles' hold. I planned to use his own knife - tendons and tissues, so easy to... slice. Stratum corneum slides away as the Red Sea by Moses; I'm nearly shaking from the tension. "You will pay... Roy."_

"_Fuck you, you smooth fuck!" He bounds forward and I feel a pang of lightning fly through my cheek. Warmth engulfs my face and my spins tenses; my shoulders twitch. How dare... _

"My fucking **face**."

_I had Roy to the ground rather quickly; I ripped his knife through his shoulder. Another - my own - through his cruciate ligaments. He would never run. _"My **face**, Roy."

"_Fuck you, pretty boy! You don't even know what it's like to kill, do you? Bessie and Mike probably tripped over their own goddamn feet and died! You dumb, cock-sucking, f-" A choked, bloodied shriek repealed his speech. _

"_I've severed your oropharynx, Roy. Hopefully, you've been successfully attached to the floor." I pressed Lace's gleaming muzzle to Roy's forehead. "Guess I'll just... _oops_, I guess I missed." A bullet glided gleefully through his cheek as Lace 'slipped.' Roy screeched again. "Sorry... I'll get it this time." I grabbed the blade I'd shoved into his throat and impaled his tongue, pulling it forward. Lace kissed it and shot a rain of warmth across Roy's face. "Before you die... I want you to know - I made Bessie scream my name and Micheal begged for his dirty little life. For all the world knows, so did you." _

"_What did you do to the woman?" Gob was rubbing incessantly at a mug as I told him the story. "Did you really...?"_

"_No, of course not. It's not because she was a ghoul - I just... I could never rape someone. It's disgusting. I mean... I'd kill someone with no regrets, but there's too much revealed and too much involved with sex." I bit the insides of my lips thoughtfully. _

"_You're a crazy one, Eros."_

* * *

Good GOD that was hard to get out xD

I've had that Roy Phillips thing in my head for awhile, and I've been really forgetful with all this New Vegas fun. :D Arcade is just so 3

Anyyyway.

Please review! Reviews make my world go round, yo! :D

yo.

But really - someone reading this must know what's it's like to not have a life. JUST ONE OF YOU. YOU MUST UNDERSTAND ME...

*ahem*

Eros will return soon. :)

And, no, I will not fully explain what the fuck is going on, though it may be rather confusing. I mean, torture... he died, right? But... what's this? He's... ALIIIIIVE?

The plot behind this is rather... stupid. I don't want to explain it. It deals with Greek mythology and a little 'play' I've made up in my mind - only Ryunimate knows. :D

Have fun!


	11. Mother

_"You are shameful. You are my son. You are my song. You are my words and my breath. You know nothing."_

_"__**Mom...**__"_

_"You're going back... I cannot have you here. You broke your promise and you died. You have died, my foolish son. There will be no light so long as you stand your plague beneath yourself. You are held by my hand, and mine alone. No longer. Goodbye."_

_"__**Mom..."**_

_She cringed as she grabbed my face. The sound of thunder escaped me; I had never felt such fire rip through my throat as the acid spread to my skin from her own. Without her touch nearly a century I'd gone; she did not smile, and I thanked her. The scar would never leave me, but she did not find her joy within it. __**"Mother**__..."_

_"I... cannot love you."_

**"Char- Charon. Wh-"** The fire came to me at once, rising from my skull throughout the skin holding tightly, regretfully, to my face. "**My face.**"

"Eros? What the fuck're you-"

"_**My fucking face**_." I'd never screamed in anguish prior to this point. Never had any pain dominated my thoughts... there was nothing... but my face.

"Shit, hold on - I'll get Barrows." Willow. Willow. My fucking **face**.

I couldn't remember Mother's face. Sitting, silently with myself, in Barrows's chair, I tried to remember her. She would never let me, her son - her lost son - reclaim his memories. She was too old, too wise, to make the mistake. I wondered if she was pretty.

I was five again.

Alone in the Gardens. I sought a dog. A cat. A snake. A tree. None sought me.

I was frightened.

Love was something I feared. Though I held it in my hands as it squirmed through my fingers and caresses my palms. Love was soft, immovable, abstract, and tolerable. But it disgraced me.

I'd once loved a girl; she smiled from her sheets and left the trail of human thoughts wandering through me. It was selfish and pure. She was my clouds, my air, my grass, my eyes. She brought forth to me true life. She was found by her husband, and burned. Nothing had been simple afterward; she did not scream. She thought my name; she stared into her eyelids; she faded into the wind as her ashes blew. I was left to die without her.

"Eros? Charon's awake. Would you like to see him?" Silence escaped me, lonely in its presence. Charon would not know me as I hid behind this cloth. Upon my face, Barrows had set bandages. There was no reason. "I'll let him in.'

Charon could not be pleased. He was angry and puzzled and fierce. He spoke nothing.

"**I.**" No more came from me, though I prayed it to.

"How are you alive?" I remembered only pain. _Mother_ I called her. She sent me back for she would never wish to hold me as her son. _Her song. Her words and breath._ "I saw you die. I was free." It stung as a hornet beneath my fingernails. My head turned. No thoughts had come clearly, recently. No poetic elegance to ease me; just words.

"**You are free, aren't you.**"

"The contract-"

"**Why-**"

"And what the fuck's with your voice?"

"**It's gone."** It was the voice of the Risen, of those dead but not forgotten; it was a voice from which there would be no escape, as I was without a mother, but left to live on.

"What happened to your face?"

"**It's gone.**" Charon moved forward to remove the cloth. I hadn't a care. The man was my guide and my protector from the damned.

"Christ, kid. I don't remember that happening." I wondered, passingly, if my mother would feel anything to know that I killed myself to see her; this thought only danced towards me as I grabbed the strap of Charon's armor. I wondered, now, if she would care to know that Charon did not, in fact, steal my life; this thought, though not alone as it passed, found me as I pulled my vanguard into me, envying the emotions he felt as we collided. "Shit, Eros, look-"

"**I've a fucking mind to which I've no escape; I see only you, for which I feel no regret.**" Charon said nothing. I slid my smooth cheek against his broken skin, inhaling slowly. I wished, for a moment, that my skin could find itself symmetrical, rather than in its messy, half-scarred state. "**You are my wind, and you must hurt me.**"

"You're on something, right? Get... Eros." He stopped as I pulled him tighter against the myself on the chair.

"**Take us to seclusion.**"

"Why can't you talk like a normal fuck?" He growled, grabbing my shoulders to pull me upwards as he led me from the small medical area.

_You are my son, you are my song_

_You are my wind, you are my breath_

_You are my right, you are my wrong_

_You are my love, you are my death_

_"Eros, where have you gone?"_

_"I found apples. Human apples."_

_"You cannot touch those, my love. Humans are awful creatures."_

_"I don't think so..."_

_"Do not negate, my son."_

_"They have their own towns. They write of you, Mommy. Will they write of me?"_

_"They write of us for their entertainment."_

_"I wish to meet a human. I want to be written."_

_"They will speak your name, Eros, but only of your beauty and grace."_

_"I have more than that."  
"Do you?"_

_"I have laughter and smiles and tears."_

_"You do not cry."_

_"I may."_

_"You cannot."_

_"I have sadness."_

_"You have none."_

_"I may."_

_"Eros, you must never meet humans. They will bring these things to you. You must never feel sadness, regret, or find your tears."_

_"I wish to feel."_

_"You cannot."_

_"I may."_

_

* * *

_

Hi There :D Lots of... vague... shit, yeah? Well, I've decided to expand more on my plot because there're only two things my beloved readers can do: read it and hate it or read it and love it. I have a 50-50 shot, I suppose. :) If you like Greek/Roman mythology at all, it's like that. Don't shove it away too soon, because it's my own portrayal of Roman mythology. :D So it's Fallout 3 plus your high school English class. Awesome.

Anywhos, I've been trying deperately to illustrate Eros because he's absolutely gorgeous in my mind O.o and I wish to show you him... but I can't. D: I have his anime-form but he looks nothing like the 'real' one. :I Grr. Oh well.

Peace and fuckin'!


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